Legacy of Chevalier
by n7n0b0dy
Summary: A dagger of Healing...a Golden Dragon...a Scarred Child...Time will only tell if the child shall prove strong willed. Throughout his life, the boy was called a drow for his sharp ears, black skin and angular features. Can he overcome the odds and save the very people who looked down on him? Can he find out the mystery behind his deceased mother?


The six year old boy stood outside of his new guardian's home. The sky was overcast with steel clouds, the smell of a heavy rain in the future. He positioned himself in front of an old birch tree, his golden dagger in hand.

Waves of emotion wafted over his senses. It had only been a month since he lost his mother. Only a couple tendays since he was saved from the street urchin life, casted into a comfort house. A day has not even fully traversed since he denied his former master's sexual advances with a silent blade to the ribs. An unnerving stillness resided in the boy as he stared through the tree, into the recent past events with his golden eyes.

He looked down at the dagger in his hand, letting his knotted black hair fall where it may. The golden blade's hilt was wrapped in a brilliant display of gold black artwork. A sliver of gold outlined the sharp curve edge on one side, and swung inward with the opposite edge.

The boy admired the weapon. He thought of how sharp the tip was, how easily it slid between the pervert's ribs. How easily all pain could go away.

How easily it could slip between his own ribs.

"Don' be thinkin' so, boyo!" A towering, burly monster reached around and grabbed his wrist. "Death's not suren ease what ails you." He scratched his gruff, black beard. His pale skin bled with sweat from a hard day's work. "More likin' that life be the cake walk betwixt the two."

The child cut his wild eyes at the man. His skin seemed almost black in comparison. He snatched his arm away and put his back to the tree, slading the blade in a ready position.

The grizzly man's face turned cherry red with anger. "You little..." he swiped off his apron and tore his shirt off of his hairy, toned, yet husky torso. His muscles bulged and snaped taut with the slightest movement. "Don' be knowin' what got yer undies in a twist, but I know ya haven't had the time to vent your anger and frustration." He slapped his gut. "Come, boyo! Have at me!"

The boy staggered at the thought of fighting the giant.

"I won't be fer fighting back." The man crossed his arms.

The boy stalked the circumference of the man, weighing his options. He could try to attack from behind, if he could actually get behind him. Undoubtibly, he is faster than the beast man, but if he was, in fact, caught by the man, by one smash of a hand, which was roughly the size of the boy's torso, he would be crushed.

Be faster, the boy thought, That's all there is to it.

But to what gain? This man has not wronged him. He never beat him, or made him feel uncomfortable. This day he even saved him from punishment for killing the owner of a finely established business.

But the boy didn't care.

All he could hold on to was his past, and wearing it as light armor, he rushed the man, stabbing at him furiously. He kicked and swung the dagger and run between the man's legs to keep up the offensive.

Yet he never touched the giant.

A series of side steps were made by the man, followed by high leaps, dodging low slices, and slaps to the back of the boy's hand. "Not fast enough!" The man would slap his hand to speed up the boy's reaction time. "Try this!" The man slapped the flat of the dagger out of the boy's hand, causing him to catch it hilt up. The slaps stung hard, for the child's hands were smaller than the smallest fingers of the man. Timing was key.

The boy found himself smirking when he moved fast enough to swipe at the man without feeling the massive, whipping hands. Quickly, he diffused the enjoyment. He started taking chances, rolling around between the man's legs, but as quick as the boy could recover to his feet, the giant's shoulders were squared back to him. With a grunt, he climbed the man's body for better focal points. He stabbed at the man's ribs and flipped the blade around to slice his neck.

The man deftly dodged every attack, flicked the boy back with a single flick of a finger. The boy was launched backward, smashing into the tree, and crumbled to his knees.

"Having fun now, aren't ya?" The man huffed between breaths.

The boy shook off the pain and rose to his feet. He bounced back and forth, anticipating the man's next moves. He caught himself smiling again and wiped it off his face.

The burly giant jogged up to him, and punched with all his might. The boy rolled away, and watched as the tree gained a new crook in its trunk. The man turned and looked at the child, now masked with fear. The man walked over to him.

In a desperate attempt, the boy flung the dagger end over end at the man's head. The man ducked as the blade soared clear over his head.

It buried itself into the tree.

"What be yer name, Lad," the man crouched, still a good size taller than the boy.

"I..." the boy cleared his throat. "Zayn Chevalier..." He looked up into the man's beady eyes with his own intense pair.

"Breabur be me name. Anson Breabur." He reached out for the boy's hand. "Come. Suren there's a dinner awaiting inside."

A rumble of thunder sounded, and Zayn looked towards the sky, feeling naked without his dagger.

"Yep, me belly's grumbling like crazy!" He laughed at the boy's misunderstanding.

"But..." Zayn pointed to his dagger.

"Here be the deal, boyo," Breabur walked up to the tree. "You'll get back, when yer ready an' able to reach for it yerself."

The house was smalle on the inside, as Zayn would imagine, just a bedroom and living quarters with a kitchen conjoined. The boy couldn't dare complain, considering his past.

A table sat in the center of the room with a chair on each side. The kitchen was a grand scale of counter space lined with dishes and vegetables and meats. A stool lined the floor around every counter, and bobbing up and down all of them was a small girl no older than Zayn. She had black hair down to the small of her back that waved left and right as she tossed dishes and foods around and over her shoulders onto the table in preparation. Her blind aim was precise.

The giant slapped a heavy hand on Zayn out of his gawk. "Me pride and joy! Karlen, come and meet our guest."

The little girl flipped her hair around to see the two. Her eyes were a stormy gray, and her cheeks as rosy as the flushed man. Zayn broke eye contact when he realized she was scowling at both of them. Breabur followed suit.

"Dinner is ready," She stamped her tiny foot. Her squeaky voice amused Zayn, but he dared not say it aloud. Wash up and sit, you're sweaty and disgusting!"

"Looker here, child-" Breabur started but cut off his own sentence to dodge a high speed ladle.

"Go!" She commanded, and her father stormed through the house mumbling.

Zayn stayed still as the girl inspected him thoroughly. As she scanned him up and down, he suddenly wished for more clothing.

Or his dagger.

Karlen stepped down from a stool and strolled over to a chair. She pulled it back, and watched Zayn expectantly. The boy cautiously approached the girl and took the seat. Karlen ducked beneath the table and climbed into the seat across from Zayn and looked him in the eye. He returned the gaze.

Moments passed before a word was uttered. Her father, wringing out his hands, plopped into the seat at the head of the table.

"Yer out cooking the best with this meal, girl!" Breabur smiled.

"Your eyes..." she uttered. The giant looked at Zayn, then back at her in confusion.

Zayn knew of what she spoke of.

"They are pretty," she covered the rude comment with a compliment.

"Thank you..." Zayn looked down. "They were gifted as a condolence."

"What happened?" Karlen leaned forward. "I love a good yarn!"

The boy looked away.

"Perhaps another time," Her dad butt in. "It's been a long day for everyone. Let's just eat."


End file.
